


A Lesson in Herbology

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: And jetlagged, Dub con at first, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, Multi, Mycroft turns up and has a threesome with a plant, Other, Sex at work, Tentacle, Thanks Sam for relentlessly picking up on all things wrong with this after I published it, Unbeta'd, plant - Freeform, quickly turns into full con, slight D/s, with a plant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That's no bloody ordinary pot plant."</p><p>Mycroft is called to Scotland Yard to investigate a slightly odd behaved plant.</p><p>Written for a prompt on my tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson in Herbology

**Author's Note:**

> If you are related to me/friends with me/about to employ me, I am sorry. Dedicated to chubcroft.

Not a singular day in the life of Mycroft Holmes could ever be called normal. The utter variety and unpredictable nature of his life was a subject he much bemoaned when either alone, or in the company of his friend, lover and most recently, live in partner, Gregory Lestrade. Predicting a day so dull and utterly useless that even his stoic superiors would allow boredom to crack through their carefully crafted facades, Mycroft didn't hold much hope for his afternoon. His face brightened as Anthea walked into one of his many meetings and subtly hinted at something else that required his attention at Scotland Yard. Well. How is one to resist the call of a detective inspector? Especially when said detective inspector is, for want of a better word, incredibly and unquestionably, 'dishy.'

Mycroft followed his deity of an assistant out to the car, sent away into the throng of mid day London with nary another word. Fingers twitching around his umbrella in anticipation, the man strode through the offices of Scotland Yard, only to be directed to the interview room by a surly looking Sergeant Donovan. Finally realised her most recent lover is engaged, he thought. Mycroft stepped into the interview room, seeing Greg at the long steel table with his cheeks flushed and his hair disarray.

"Masturbating in the toilets? Really Gregory, how plebeian." Mycroft muttered, walking up to the man and seeing a box on the floor beside him, containing some form of plant. 

Greg looked up at Mycroft, wiping his brow before looking back at the cardboard box, seemingly dazed. "I didn't jerk off in the loo, Myc. The... Thing did it." 

Mycroft raised a slender eyebrow, peering back into the box. "You masturbated with a pot plant? Now as much as I am in favour of you discovering new aspects of your sexuality, I must say that I quite like my orchids and would rather-"

"I didn't masturbate with the pot plant! It's not a bloody pot plant, to start off with." Greg interrupted with an exasperated sigh. "Mycroft, it's alive. As in, it's got a mind of its own, and it bloody well started kissing me and then before I knew it, my trousers were off, the door was locked and it fucked me." Greg thought for a moment. "It fucked me pretty well, actually."

Mycroft had both eyebrows raised by this point. "So you're not only telling me that this... Plant 'thing' is not only sentient, but horny?" He muttered, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, of all the excuses Ive heard..." Mycroft's voice dropped out as the box began to produce long yet thick tentacles, a dark leafy colour. A few tentacles moved straight towards him, gently embracing his back, one moving to pet his hair. A thick ended one moved to brush his lips, secreting a sweet juice, as if asking for entrance. Mycroft looked over to Greg, panic in his eyes, not daring to open his mouth.

Greg had a tentacle himself, gently cupping his cheek whist another stroked his hair. "Love, it's okay. I promise." He soothed, relaxing in the secure grip. One tendril snaked towards the door of the interview room, locking the door with a gentle snick.

Mycroft nodded a little, opening his mouth to speak to Greg before a tentacle moved in, kissing him deeply and deftly, moving over Mycroft's tongue with a careful ease. Mycroft let out a moan as the kissing turned passionate, spurring him on. More tentacles moved towards him, holding him steady and giving him encouraging touches, like tongues over his exposed skin. Mycroft soon gave up all resistance, melting into the hold, his stiffening cock clear. 

Greg was watching eagerly before his mouth was gently nudged by a tendril, Greg parting his lips quickly. A long and incredibly thick tentacle quickly invaded his mouth, starting to move punishingly quickly in and around, brushing the sweet juices along the back of his throat. Whimpering, Greg began to stroke the tentacle in his mouth, a silent plea for more. More tendrils emerged, thin ones that quickly divested Greg of his clothes, his shirt carelessly thrown to the side, his trousers pulled off and left in a heap by the table. Greg was still moaning around the tentacle in his mouth as he found his hands pulled back behind him, his wrists held tightly. His lips were parted as wide as possible as the tentacle moved in and out rapidly, essentially fucking his mouth. Greg moaned with each thrust, his eyes closed even as the tendrils wrapped themselves around his legs and chest, lifting him up and binding Greg fully. 

Mycroft opened an eye and saw Greg lifted up, tendrils snaking around his body. Mycroft let out a small groan as the tentacle in his mouth became more dominant, more tentacles moving to force his head straight. He whimpered a little as the tendrils began undressing him, removing his jacket and finding the waistcoat, then the shirt. Mycroft could sense it's frustrations as it got to his vest, ripping it off quickly. Gregory often shared the sentiment in him wearing too many layers. Thin and finger like spindles moved along his chest, tweaking a nipple when Mycroft's mind wandered. He groaned loudly, a tremor running along his body. Mycroft was painfully aroused, his eyes wide as his body sang with the touches. His trousers were deftly removed, his underpants pulled off carefully and taken back to the box, hoarded. He tried to look over at Greg again before a tentacle wrapped around his face gently, obscuring his vision like a blindfold. Mycroft let himself be pulled up to float, strong tendrils around his arms, legs and torso, one still in his mouth. He sucked on it eagerly, feeling himself being made horizontal in the air. Mycroft cried out around the tentacle as he felt a warm mouth on his cock, himself rendered immobile. 

Greg was being lowered by the tendrils controlling his every move, being pushed down onto Mycroft's eager cock until his nose was brushing the familiar ginger hair. Greg let out a long groan, his head being held in place by heavy tendrils. Mycroft's hips began to be moved, drawing back before pounding into Greg's mouth. Mycroft nearly screamed as he felt a slick tentacle probe his entrance, an answering cry from Greg indicating the same treatment. Mycroft's hips were moved more and more as thin whispy tendrils cupped and massaged his balls, the tentacle inside his entrance pushing further inside and beginning to massage his prostate. Mycroft arched his back, ready to spill into Greg, only to find the base of his cock squeezed, his orgasm at bay.

Greg watched Mycroft come apart as he was simultaneously fucking and being fucked. He whimpered as his own prostate was massaged, a tentacle starting to move up and down his throbbing cock, alternating pressure. He focused most of his attention on sucking Mycroft off, just as he was pulled away from Mycroft's groin, a tentacle replacing his cock, making up for the girth and length he missed. Mycroft's own cock was soon wrapped again in heat, his hips thrusting into the tendrils around his organ. With a final push to his prostate, Mycroft came loudly, feeling the sweet juices of the plant filling his mouth as he did so. He came hard enough for him to black out for a few moments, the tentacles slowly withdrawing themselves from his body.

With Mycroft's cry, Greg soon came after, tumbling over the edge with his second extraordinary orgasm of the day. The plant sucked all of their spills up, leaving Gregs entrance and mouth full of the sweet fluid. He felt boneless as he was laid on the floor next to a dazed and entirely well fucked Mycroft who was just coming around. The tentacles gently put all their clothes next to the two men, minus their underwear, before running soft tendrils through their hair and returning to the box.

Mycroft eventually sat up, looking between the box and Gregory, trying hard to form a coherent sentence.

"Where... Where did you get that?" Mycroft asked quietly, panting.

Greg shrugged weakly, blinking with wide eyes. "One of the blokes found it outside... Thought it would be a nice housewarming present.. A pot plant, you know..."

Mycroft managed to laugh a little. "Gregory, that is most certainly not a bloody pot plant."


End file.
